Changes to the Past, Consequences for the Future
by Sage and Snape
Summary: What would happen if a member of the SGC's past was different?What would happen if said past, came into the present?The SGC now has to deal with more earthly problems as the President assigns one of their family members to the SGC.
1. Reassignment

Disclaime: I own nothing at all to do with Stargate SG-1, so please please don't sue me!  
  
Note: I am not in the military and neither is anyone that I know, so there is some terminology or other things that I may get wrong. If you feel the need to point this out to me, please do it in a congenial fashion, because I am trying my best.  
  
Chapter One  
  
Reassignment  
  
"What in God's green earth possessed you to do that, son?" His CO yelled from the other side of his desk, slamming his hands down on his desk for effect.  
  
"My concern for my wingman's safety, sir," he said back smartly, although he felt his arms tense dramatically. Perhaps this wouldn't be the easy lecture he had anticipated it to be. He seemed to have ruffled feathers.  
  
"His safety! HIS SAFETY! What about YOUR safety and the safety of YOUR RIO?"  
  
"Sir, I didn't call that into question."  
  
"How could you not, captain?"  
  
"I know my capabilities, sir, and I knew my wingman's. I knew I was more capable of handling the situation than he was, he's fresh."  
  
"I don't care if he just got out of flight school! Fresh! Why didn't you just order him to eject?"  
  
"If it came down to that, sir, I would have rather ejected than him, sir. I at the least would have a chance of survival, colonel."  
  
The older man was visibly calming down. His tone of voice was no longer irrate, but frustrated and concerned.  
  
"While your concern for your subordinate's welfare is commendable, I have to wonder about your motives, captain. You don't even seem phased and that was more than just a brush with death, son."  
  
"I'm just not afraid, sir, I've had to eject before. I've had a heat- seeker on my six before. I had more of a chance, sir, that's what it comes down to. I had more of a chance to bring all four of us back in one piece, and I took that chance, Colonel."  
  
"It wouldn't hurt you to be a bit more conservative, captain, though I have to admit that this stunt might earn you some distinction yet."  
  
* * *  
  
His boots hit the pavement purposefully, his adrenalin still running on high as he pulled off his helmet. He ran his fingers through his slightly plastered, dirty blonde hair, so much so that it nearly looked a deep caramel color.  
  
He smacked fists with his R.I.O., his right eyebrow raised appraisingly.  
  
"Got my thrills for the day, Merlin!" The young man answered, knowing exactly what that eyebrow had meant.  
  
The captain was a man of many facial expressions and comparatively few words.  
  
"Not so much so as last week, or was it the week before."  
  
"Can't have that everyday..." the R.I.O. answered, "Would you really want to?"  
  
The man called Merlin answered, "That's what we are here for in't?"  
  
"No sir, last I checked we were supposed to shoot them down, not evade their fire!"  
  
"Doing both isn't bad either, Skates," he said, smiling slightly.  
  
Merlin combed his wet hair, grateful for the much-needed shower. His reflection stared back at him. His honey-brown colored eyes looked much too youthful, as did the rest of his face for that matter, for what he had seen and experienced in his life. He had risen in rank quite quickly, much to the chagrin of many of his ambitious collegues. He was reminded again and again as he overheard it being discussed, that talent most often spoke louder than time. And Merlin had talent, and a legacy of Air Force pilots behind him.  
  
A loud, "Hey Merlin!" jolted him out of his thoughts.  
  
He turned to face the voice.  
  
"Colonel wants to see you ASAP. His words were he wants to see you ten minutes ago."  
  
Wondering if he was once again going to fly two missions in a row, he dropped his comb and exited the locker-room, pulling his shirt on as he went.  
  
When he pulled open the door to the Colonel's office, he was still buttoning up his shirt, but when he looked up, he noticed that his CO was not the only man in the office.  
  
Recovering quickly, he snapped off a salute, being in the presence of not only his CO and but also the General. Which was obviously, most unexpected.  
  
"Take a seat captain."  
  
Merlin sat down, pushing his reluctance back as he wondered if this had anything to do with his close-call with the heat-seeker from the week before.  
  
"Well, I am sure that you are curious to know what this is about, Captain. So, we will get right down to it. Your flight record is most impressive, despite your age and relative few years of service. Your reviews have been outstanding, not one single blemish to speak of, not one low mark on your training exercises. The speed at which you have been promoted has had you flagged for some time now."  
  
The General paused, puffing out his chest importantly.  
  
"Flagged, son, for more intense investigation. All your files have been reviewed on the highest level. You are due in for a new assignment."  
  
"New assignment, sir? He's my best pilot. Surely, there isn't anything more important than this war-."  
  
"Not my call, Colonel. As I said, the orders have come down from the highest level. You are due to report at the Pentagon. You are fueled up and there is a refueling iternary in this packet, as are the rest of your orders." The man stood, and everyone else in the room followed suit.  
  
Merlin reached out his hand and took the packet from the man, knots twisting in his stomach. He was being reassigned? Reassigned to where?  
  
"That said, I suggest that you get prepared. Dismissed."  
  
* * *  
  
Merlin scowled deeply, and for the fourth time in 48 hours without any sleep donned his flight suit.  
  
"Stupid fucking Secretary, stupid fucking President!"  
  
He could still not believe what he had just heard. The President had hand-picked him out of a group of pilots to be assigned to a top priority operation. He was being ripped out of his comfortable, albeit dangerous, assignment near Iraq where he had earned the respect of those both under his command and those over him.  
  
His mind travelled back to when he had first stepped into the office of the Secretary of Defense, which was where his high-level orders had come from.  
  
"Captain, at ease. It is a pleasure to meet you finally. I have been following your actions for some time. I speak for myself and the President when I say that you embody what we call America's Finest."  
  
Had he been in another situation, Merlin would most definitely have scoffed. Where he came from, there was no pencil-pushing sycophantism.  
  
Instead, he settled for, "Thank you, sir."  
  
"In fact, we have live footage of you, satellite enhanced of course. We couldn't follow a jet around with a camcorder."  
  
The young man raised an eyebrow as the Secretary continued.  
  
"The President asked me to say that your drawing of enemy fire away from your wingman was the most impressive and daunting thing he has ever been privy to see. I am inclined to agree. Have you seen the tape, Merlin? May I call you Merlin?"  
  
"Yes, sir, you may call me Merlin. No, sir, I haven't seen the tape."  
  
The man pressed a remote and a sliding cabinet gave way to a TV.  
  
"We've superimposed the sound from your transmissions onto the tape. It's very dramatic."  
  
Merlin envisioned this tape being on some enlistment commercial on network television, the way the man talked it up.  
  
His thoughts were jolted back to the tape when he heard the distressed voice of his wingman cut through the silence of the room.  
  
"Merlin! I've got a, a h-heater on my six, sir."'  
  
"How many meters?" he heard himself ask.  
  
"I dunno, it's close, sir. I gotta punch us out!"  
  
Merlin scoffed out loud in real life at the gross exaggeration his wingman had made. On the tape, the heater was meters away.  
  
"Are you a Navy pilot Lieutenant, or an Air Force pilot? This isn't some simulation and that is a multi-million dollar piece of machinery you are flying! You do not punch out, do you understand me?"  
  
"Yes, sir! What do I do, sir?"  
  
Over the audio he heard himself ask his RIO, "You with me on this one Skates?"  
  
"To Hell and back, Merlin. Lets do it!"  
  
Next he was back talking to his wingman.  
  
"Level out, do not pull up or turn. Do you understand? I am coming over on top of you."  
  
"Got-Gotcha, Merlin," came the reply.  
  
He watched on the video as the two planes appeared as if they had become one when he came over the top of the other jet.  
  
"Now when I tell you to, you drop and keep going, then roll out in the other direction."  
  
"Okay, sir."  
  
Holding his breath as if it were really happening all over again, he watched his wingman drop and then roll out the other way. When the man dropped, the heater did what it would normally do and stayed with the heat source that had kept in the same course, his own jet.  
  
After some tactical evasive moves, he steadied out.  
  
"Skates? We'll have to try something else. How close have we got now?"  
  
"Only a bit over ten meters, Merlin. What're your plans?"  
  
"In ten I am going into a 60 degree turn towards the sun, another ten and I'm killing the engines."  
  
"Good to go."  
  
The plane cut hard to the right.  
  
"8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1..."  
  
He cut the engines and plummeted the plane down nose-first.  
  
"Hold onto your lunch, Skates."  
  
"Holding, sir!"  
  
Seconds passed by.  
  
"Starting up," he called, "Tell me what we've got as soon as you see it."  
  
But before Skates had a chance to answer, a loud explosion took over the audio, and for the first time, Merlin saw the heat seeking missle explode far above him. It had been fooled into being guided on the sun and then it went off.  
  
The tape cut off.  
  
"This action sealed your ticket to your new assignment. The President hand-picks everyone for this mission himself. You will be one of two captains assigned. There is command potential in the post for your future, Merlin. You have earned this one, son."  
  
"Permission to speak freely, sir."  
  
"Granted."  
  
Merlin cleared his throat, "I still haven't been informed of my new assignment, sir."  
  
"I've been dodging that a bit, captain, very perceptive of you. You'll be going out West, to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, to eventually learn how to fly some technologically very different jets, once we build a few. Until then, we have a very advanced simulator program to train you, and then you will be working to design a training program."  
  
Blinking furiously, Merlin wondered if he had been hearing things, or if this was some horrific sort of a dream.  
  
The secretary stared at him for a moment and then continued, "Stunned, I believe, afterall this is the opportunity of a lifetime for a young man such as yourself. Just wait until you are fully briefed on the situation of the Complex..."  
  
Merlin swallowed, wondering how best to bridge the subject. He decided that direct was best.  
  
"Mr. Secretary, sir, there is a rather large conflict of interest with me being stationed there."  
  
The man looked at him curiously, "And that would be what, captain?"  
  
The congenial conversation took a dramatic turn to formality.  
  
"Sir, no military personnel can be stationed in the direct chain of command as a family member."  
  
The dramatic turn to formality took another turn to sheer discomfort, as the man walked straight into his face. Merlin stiffened, waiting for the arsenal to begin.  
  
"Are you suggesting, captain, that I have not been doing my job? That I had accidentally, or through negligence, over-looked that small fact in your file?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
The man showed his military ferocity very well, "So, pray tell me exactly what the problem is then?"  
  
He swallowed again, this time having no idea what the hell he was supposed to say to that... he thought that 'you see, sir, my father and I haven't talked in a few years and we don't exactly get on very well, so it is probably not a good idea for the two of us to be in that close a proximity,' was not something acceptable. Instead, he said nothing.  
  
"Nothing to say? You aren't going to tell me that you cannot handle being in the direct chain of command of your father, are you? Because if you do perhaps you aren't the man I thought that you were."  
  
"No, sir, hadn't crossed my mind."  
  
Then he thought to himself, 'Shit!'  
  
"Good, because this mission is more important than any stupid regs about being in the chain of command of a family member. This mission, captain, calls for the best of all fields, regardless of who the hell is related to whom."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
He faded back out of the memory scowling like he hadn't remembered scowling in a long time, probably since his father had argued with him about going to the Air Force Academy while he had wanted to go to a 'civilian' university. Yanking his helmet on, he growled and muttered obscenities, and the lack of sleep didn't help his mood at all. By the time he got where he was going and underwent all the necessary ceremony and introduction, he could hopefully get some sleep if he didn't end up in a holding cell for indecorously knocking his father out cold.  
  
A/N  
  
This starts off a little rough, jumping around a lot, but it was necessary to not drag the beginning out too much. We'll see what happens at the SGC next.  
  
For those of you who do not know, and if you are reading Stargate fanfic you probably do, here is the meanings of all the military terms:  
  
RIO – Radar intercept officer – the person in the backseat of the jet that tells the pilot where stuff's at.  
  
CO – Commanding officer  
  
SIC – Second in command (this is for future reference)  
  
On my/your Six – this basically means 'on your ass' or 'following your plane' generally refering to enemy aircraft or enemy fire.  
  
Merlin/Skates etc – These are pilots' call signs, which means that this is what they call each other over the radio. Basically nicknames. 


	2. Welcome to the SGC

Chapter 2 Welcome to the SGC  
  
After landing, Merlin realized that he might not be flying for awhile, which was rather discouraging. He sighed deeply, perhaps he could work towards his doctorate while they finished building him an aircraft capable of earth and interspace travel. Designing a training program specifically cried 'boredom' to him, and it was clear that it might be some time before he was actually actively piloting anything against the enemy.  
  
He was already mentally planning ways to keep himself busy, but the minute he climbed into the vehicle that would take him to his new post he promptly fell asleep.  
  
When the vehicle stopped, Merlin opened one eyes and groggily said to the airman, "Don't tell me we're already there."  
  
"Yes, sir, we are."  
  
"I told you not to tell me that," he replied.  
  
"Sorry, sir."  
  
The captain jumped out and waved him off without a backwards glance. He was hoping that this was not going to be a post without any humor, but it already seemed as if nobody was going to understand his sarcasm. He'd be at a loss to say anything.  
  
He approached the guards hoping that this would be quick as it was rather hot outside and he was completely uncomfortable in his full uniform.  
  
"Well, sir, you are a bit early."  
  
"Early?" He replied. How could he possibly be early when he was supposed to get there ASAP?  
  
"Yes, sir, they aren't expecting you for a few hours."  
  
He thought to himself, 'Don't tell me they are going to make me wait out here for a few hours!"  
  
"Berkely is going to call down to General Hammond and see what he wants to do."  
  
"I see," he replied, putting his baseball cap back on and turning around to look back out at the road.  
  
"You're a pilot?" The man said, nodding at his hat which had a very impressive set of wings embroidered on the front.  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"Don't you have any gear, sir," another asked him.  
  
"Nope, just my hat and sunglasses and some stuff in this bag," he replied talking about the backpack he had slung over one shoulder.  
  
"They lost it on you, sir."  
  
Merlin turned back around, "It is back with my last post near Iraq, they are shipping it out to me."  
  
"Hey, sir," said the man Merlin assumed was Berkely, "They are coming up for you now."  
  
'Goody,' he thought, giving a rather saccharine smile.  
  
* * *  
  
The tunnels were all nondescript and a drab grey color. The airman escorting him hadn't said word one to him other than a very formal greeting and a 'follow me, sir'.  
  
Merlin had been in many hair-raising, deadly situations, but he had never quite felt like this before. He felt anxious and tense and on alert. Every corner he turned, he felt inclined to completely inspect the hallway. He was simply waiting to turn the corner and have to confront the one person he had never really cared to see again. The irony of it was amazing. Of all the posts, he had to be sent to this one, and he thought some reg would save him from that slim possibility in the first place.  
  
He was beginning to wish that he had taken a job where he could just tell his boss that he quit and then proceed to walk straight out the door to never look back. He should have stayed in academia. He sighed, he could not deny that he loved his job and that he loved to fly. This, effectively, had quashed his idea of somehow getting himself discharged; he would much rather face a bullet or an explosion than his own father. What he would not do, however, was give up his flight suit and his ability to tear through the sky.  
  
Heaving a rather caustic sigh, that sounded much more like a growl, he dropped his bag, hat, and sunglasses on the floor against the wall before knocking on the door in front of him.  
  
His heart was pounding so hard as his mind tried to will his father not to be in there with General Hammond, that he did not clearly hear the response to his knock.  
  
When he opened the door to see only one man in the room, and that man was in no way lean and lanky like his father, he was visibly relieved. So relieved, in fact, that he gave the most snap-happy salute he was sure he had ever given in his entire career.  
  
"We weren't expecting you for another hour or two, captain. This has all been rather expedited. I was just faxed a few things from your file last night, haven't even had a chance to really look at it yet. How in God's name did you get here so fast?"  
  
"They lent me a fighter and gave me a refueling itinerary, sir, and I was on my way."  
  
"Is that right? You came from a long way then, as I said, I haven't had a chance to look at your full file."  
  
"From Iraq, sir, straight off a mission and to the Pentagon."  
  
"I'll be, that's a damn long trip." Hammond said, putting his fingertips on his desk, shaking his head slightly.  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
"How are things there?"  
  
Merlin could not help but smile slightly, "Hot, sir."  
  
The General also smiled, "Why don't we sit down."  
  
"Thank you, sir, but I'd rather stand. I've been sitting for a long, long while."  
  
"Oh yes, right, well... I was told that you would have the rest of your file for me."  
  
The corner of his lip raised a little, "Yes, I do, but it is in my bag. Excuse me for a moment."  
  
The General took the moment to flip open the file and read the captain's full name again, which he had forgotten.  
  
'Captain Charles Jackson O'Neill. Hmmm,' he thought to himself.  
  
"Here it is, sir," he said, holding out three manilla envelops and a plain file to Hammond.  
  
"Well, Captain O'Neill, what did they tell you about this assignment?"  
  
"As you said, General, everything was rather expedited, so I am afraid I got the Cracker Jack version of everything. As I understand it, the United States military is making special aircraft capable of space flight and inter-atmospheric slight, and I am supposed to be trained to fly it and help induct a more formal training program in the future."  
  
"That's correct, son," he said, supressing a little bit of a chuckle.  
  
Merlin cocked his head to the left, wondering what he had said that was funny.  
  
"I'm sorry, captain, it is just that most when asked that question assume that I am asking them what they have heard of the Stargate Program itself, not their particular assignment," he said, chuckling further.  
  
"Well, sir, there are aliens and frankly I am not in the least bit surprised. I did my master's thesis on the speculation that aliens build most ancient landmarks in Egypt. About the program itself, I hear that the gate was found in Egypt and that it creates an artificial wormhole through space, deconstructing matter and reconstructing it on the other side."  
  
"Well said. Honestly, I am surprised that you know what that jabber means. Most do not."  
  
"I've been told that I am not like most, sir," he answered, smiling. Merlin was beginning to like this man. He could definitely work with him, but that didn't mean that he wasn't still tense about his father's eventual arrival at this meeting or even at a later time.  
  
"That's why you are here, son. From what I hear you are a real presence with other pilots and have natural leadership, despite your age, which is exactly what we need. We have a rather cocky bunch of pilots who were already selected and are already here. My second in command, Colonel O'Neill, has been trying to manage them and keep them on a day to day schedule in addition to his other duties. This has been quite difficult."  
  
"Understandable, sir," he answered, but his voice had definitely dropped at the mention of his father.  
  
"We are hoping to bring in another captain ASAP, but for now I am hoping that you can micromanage them under the Colonel's supervision. Down the road, one of the two of you will take over the command position and a promotion, once things are further underway."  
  
"Yes, sir," he answered, although he was being much less vocal than he had been. In the back of his mind, he was wondering how General Hammond had not made the connection yet. He had probably not even thought of it as a possibility with that reg being set against it.  
  
"I have planned a briefing for later tonight, but I'd like for you to meet the Colonel before then. SG-1, the Colonel's team, just returned for a mission a few hours ago and we are due to debrief. If you'll come with me, I will introduce you two."  
  
Merlin's stomach knotted up. He had thought he was going to be able to avoid it for at least a few hours, and now he knew that the bomb was due to go off in less than five minutes and there was absolutely no defusing of it.  
  
His body was completely tensed up when he walked into the debriefing room behind the General.  
  
"We are just waiting for Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c, sir," a female voice announced before Merlin made it all the way into the room.  
  
"All right, while you're all here-."  
  
Suddenly Merlin's mouth dropped open, "Dr. Jackson!"  
  
Daniel looked up from the photograph he was looking at and stood up, nearly knocking over his chair.  
  
"C.J., wow, I, well this is a surprise," he said smiling, as he held out his hand to Merlin.  
  
"Nice to see you again, Daniel."  
  
General Hammond was looking from one to the other before saying, "You two know each other?"  
  
The Captain smiled, "Yes, sir, Dr. Jackson supervised my Master's Thesis. I worked for him on a dig for a year and a half."  
  
"My, my, small world," Hammond said.  
  
"That is so crazy," Sam put in, smiling warmly.  
  
"This is Captain Samantha Carter," the General said, holding out a hand towards her.  
  
"Nice to meet you, captain," Merlin said, shaking her hand.  
  
"Captain Carter, this is Captain-."  
  
"Well, sir, what did I miss?" Colonel O'Neill said, walking through the open doorway with a sly grin on his face. "Where's Teal'c?"  
  
General Hammond turned around, "I was just about to introduce Captain Carter to Captain-."  
  
"CHARLIE!" The Colonel roared, the frown line between his eyebrows deepening.  
  
* * *  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
A/N sorry to leave you all hanging... what do you think?  
  
Thank you Rhia, SciFi Fan Gillian, and Aru for leaving me reviews! I also write Harry Potter fanfiction which has such a massive following, I didn't know if anyuone here would review me, lol. I am glad that you three took the time to leave me a review. As a reward, I have updated much faster than I usually would. Enjoy! 


	3. Family Matters

Family Matters  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Well, sir, what did I miss?" Colonel O'Neill said, walking through the open doorway with a sly grin on his face. "Where's Teal'c?"  
  
General Hammond turned around, "I was just about to introduce Captain Carter to Captain-."  
  
"CHARLIE!" The Colonel roared, the frown line between his eyebrows deepening.  
  
Merlin clenched his fist tightly, as his father screamed his nickname from when he was much younger. But, it no longer made him feel inferior or like a small child anymore.  
  
"What is *he* doing here?" O'Neill continued, glaring potently.  
  
General Hammond frowned, "What's the problem Colonel? He's the new pilot I was telling you about..."  
  
"Dammit, General, he can't be. No military personnel can be in the direct chain of command of a family member!"  
  
General Hammond cocked his head at the Colonel, "You mean to tell me that you two are *related*."  
  
Daniel's mouth fell open, "You're related to Jack?" All while wondering how someone as bookish as CJ had come from the same genetic makeup as Jack O'Neill.  
  
Far from saying anything, and far from being capable of saying anything, Merlin set his jaw, his lips tightening. If he opened them, he was sure he would yell straight back, and after that would come an all-out dogfight. He was not that ready to compromise his career.  
  
Jack's brow furrowed so greatly that a chasm appeared between his eyebrows, "General, he's my *son* for god's sake!"  
  
General Hammond and Carter both blurted out, "Your SON!"  
  
Daniel, looking concentrated and perplexed, continued to wonder how military-minded Jack managed to have a prodigy child.  
  
Hammond shook his head strongly, "This must be an oversight...This can't be right. I'll make a call to the secretary and see what this is all about."  
  
Clearing his throat and opening his mouth for the first time since his father's arrival, Merlin said, "With all respect sir, I wouldn't do that. He's aware of the situation. And I was in dire need of a facewash when he was done with his tirade about my insinuation that he did not look at my file carefully enough."  
  
That was apparently exactly what Colonel O'Neill did not want to hear. "Aware of the situation?!? Aware!!!"  
  
Merlin raised an eyebrow at his father and addressed him for the first time, "Yes, sir, aware. To put it in his own words, and I quote, 'this mission is more important than any stupid regs about being in the chain of command of a family member. This mission, captain, calls for the best of all fields, regardless of who the hell is related to whom.'"  
  
Desperate and aggravated Jack looked toward General Hammond.  
  
"General! He's a kid, and he's just as young if not younger than a good majority of the men you think *he's* going to take charge of!"  
  
Biting the inside of his lips strongly enough to draw blood, Merlin glared at him. He could not believe what he just heard. It took every ounce of self-control and training he had not to completely lose it, and jump down his father's throat regardless of rank.  
  
Finally he trusted himself to say something in his defense, "In case you forgot, sir, I stopped being a kid when you packed me off. Why don't you take an interest in your own son for once and look at his file. It speaks for itself." He paused to look at General Hammond, "As to my ability to fulfill my assignment, sir, I assure you that I won't fall short, regardless of any obstacles that are put in my way," He directed his glare at Jack as he finished his statement.  
  
As his final button was pushed, Jack pointed a finger at Merlin and said, "The day I see YOU be responsible for another person's life with be a COLD, COLD DAY IN HELL! The irony of that!"  
  
Sam pulled her head back in surprise, her eyes showing her shock clearly. She had never heard Jack sound like this, and she had seen Jack in some very bad times. She looked towards the Captain in time to see him turn so pale that it barely stood out from the collar on his white shirt.  
  
Throwing ceremony partially out the window, Merlin walked up closer to Jack, clearly not intimidated by the man's death glare in the least.  
  
His eyebrow arched up slightly and his upper lip was curling slightly with distaste. "How honorable is it to still be blaming a ten-year old boy for a mistake, fifteen years after it happened, sir? Hope it feels good," He said under his breath, with a venom that was character of an O'Neill.  
  
Merlin growled slightly, weighing his options of the moment. Clearly, his behavior was not acceptable, but then neither was the Colonel's. However, if they ended up in a fist fight... So instead of stacking his chances of getting himself ear deep, he walked out of the room, completely content with getting his boots a little muddy.  
  
Jack threw up his hands, as he was wont to do immediately before getting dangerously angry.  
  
General Hammond, being the only one brave enough to say anything cut in, "What just happened here?"  
  
Teal'c, who had been silently cocking his head back and forth between the O'Neills, answered since no one else was volunteering anything, "It would seem, GeneralHammond that Colonel O'Neill has a son, who is indeed joining the SGC."  
  
Daniel, who was still shocked, said, "Uh, Teal'c, I think the general knows that... It's a human expression of exasperation."  
  
Teal'c arched an eyebrow at Danile, "I see, DanielJackson, thank you."  
  
Daniel shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot for a moment before interjecting into the silence. "Err, I don't think he knows where he is going. Uhh, I think I'll just..." and he pointed to the door.  
  
General Hammond nodded, letting out a frustrated sigh.  
  
Daniel hastily left the debriefing room, glad for a reason to not be around Jack. He was much more comfortable staking his chances with CJ.  
  
Once Daniel left, General Hammond turned to Jack to say, "Well whatever that was, it was pretty indecorous of the both of you."  
  
Sam looked up at the Colonel from her seat, "I didn't even know you had a son, sir."  
  
Hammond shook his head, pushing his lips together, "For that matter, neither did I."  
  
Jack growled and buried his head in his hands. He wished that they would all just leave like Daniel. He had no desire to say anything about his prodigal son.  
  
When it became apparent that they were all staring at him and were not going to leave he said, "We haven't spoken in years."  
  
Teal'c frowned, "I do not understand, O'Neill, do not human parents have unconditional love for their children? It is so on Chulak."  
  
Jack looked up at Teal'c briefly, "Well this ain't Chulak, Teal'c."  
  
Teal'c, confusion mounting on his face, responded, "I cannot believe that a man like you, O'Neill, would not value his own son. He must be a great warrior to be here, or is that not true General Hammond?"  
  
"It's true so far as I am concerned, Teal'c," Hammond answered, "His file indicates that he is a skilled and fearless pilot, and a fine officer. Much like his father is."  
  
Jack grimaced, although his hands, which were pulling on his hair slightly, hid his face from everyone except for Carter.  
  
* * *  
Daniel had broken into a jog, hoping that he would find CJ before the man got hopelessly lost. However, he had barely jogged around the corner before he saw CJ with his back propped up against the wall.  
  
Wondering if he had somehow never seen CJ's O'Neill temper while working with him, he approached with caution.  
  
"Well... That was...Interesting," Daniel finally said, stopping next to him.  
  
"I had to get out of there... And then I realized that I had absolutely nowhere to go," Merlin responded. "That has to be the most bang-up first impression I've ever made to a CO."  
  
Daniel shrugged, "It's not so bad as you think."  
  
Merlin threw him a look that reminded Daniel strangely of Jack. It clearly said, 'always the eternal optimist,' and it made Daniel cringe slightly.  
  
"All right, so maybe it is..."  
  
"I cannot imagine a worse scenario, Daniel."  
  
Daniel shrugged, "You don't get along, I'm gathering."  
  
"Understatement."  
  
"I didn't even know Jack had a son."  
  
"No surprise there," Merlin answered, "So far as he is concerned, I don't think he does have one." He scoffed.  
  
Daniel was not sure what to say to that. He wished that he could have meet back up with CJ under more pleasant circumstances... at least so far as the other man was concerned.  
  
"We haven't talked in years. I haven't seen him since before I graduated from college."  
  
Inadvertantly, Daniel's mouth fell open, "You're kidding."  
  
"Nope. Believe me there would have been plenty of opportunities, but he didn't take any of them."  
  
Daniel sighed, "Standing here in the hallway is a little awkward, why don't we go to my room?"  
"Sure. Thanks, Daniel."  
  
Clearing his throat, Daniel chanced it, "What do you mean by plenty of opportunities?"  
  
Merlin's face tensed and he pursed his lips.  
  
"About a year ago, I was shot down over hostile territory from ground- strike, completely unexpected. I went MIA for about a week, maybe two, I don't really remember everything clearly. My beacon apparently did not work, that, or they did not want to chance sending in a helo."  
  
"Wow," Daniel said.  
  
"As you know, when something like that happens, it is customary to contact next of kin. When I finally managed to make it to somewhere I could call for help, I was in pretty bad shape. The only good thing was that I was in one piece. I was laid up for quite awhile and unconscious for awhile. I never got a phone call or anything from him, not that I really wanted one."  
  
Daniel stared, "You would imagine that him thinking you were dead would make him want to contact you once he found out you were alive. As the old saying goes, 'you don't realize how much you love someone until they are gone.'"  
  
"One would think, but he didn't. I think he's always wished that I were dead."  
  
"What would make you say that?"  
  
"It's a long story, Daniel, and a difficult one," Merlin said, closing the subject.  
  
The room was quiet for a few moments, Daniel not knowing what to say, and Merlin lost in his own thoughts.  
  
Finally, Daniel said, "Well, I'm glad to have you here. Perhaps I can even enlist you to help me with some artifacts and translations."  
  
"Like the old days, Daniel? I'm not a twenty-year old kid anymore," he responded, smiling.  
  
"I never saw you as a twenty-year old kid to begin with CJ, even when you were one." 


	4. General Hammond

General Hammond walked back to his office, shaking his head. Exactly what was he supposed to do? Did he look like a family counselor? This was the United States Air Force damn it, not some military version of Jerry Springer.  
  
He exhaled deeply as he sat down, wondering what recourses he might have. It was abundantly clear that calling the Secretary was not going to work, and calling the President over this seemed completely asinine. Considering that was precisely where the order had originated, there was not much hope in a change of heart. No, he would have to handle it, whatever 'it' was. He had, afterall, been in much worse situations with his people.  
  
Exhaling again as a slight grimace crossed his face... Colonel O'Neill was a very professional man. He had been doing a bang up job of keeping his apparent feelings for Captain Carter at bay. However, and this was a big however, one sight of his son and professionalism had all but been thrown out the window. In fact, if he were forced to quantify things, his assessment was that the younger O'Neill had actually been in more control of himself than the Colonel had been. While he couldn't particularly condone walking out, it probably had been the proper option in the situation, or things would have gone downhill fast.  
  
One thing was for sure, he had felt then that he had no control over the situation, and he certainly did not like that feeling one bit. This would have to be dealt with, sooner than later, and if he had to rein them both in, simply to keep things working, then that was what he was going to do. The first step was getting into control.  
  
* * *  
  
If there was one thing besides the thrill of a good find that got Daniel Jackson excited, it was having someone to talk to about those 'good finds' that could understand what he was talking about. Charlie was perfect for such things. He was sharp, bright, and inquisitive, and currently looking at a picture of some writings on Daniel's computer.  
  
"And I found that our interpretation of how ancient Egyptian was spoken and pronounced, was completely off course. Just imagine how amazing to hear it spoken aloud and to realize that it was what you knew, but not what you knew."  
  
Charlie looked over his shoulder, "It is just a matter of learning the correct pronunciation?"  
  
"Mostly, yes. It all very closely follows. I picked it up on Abydos within a few days."  
  
"Remarkable," he answered, one eye shutting slightly in thought. "We take for granted what we think we know," he added, quietly.  
  
Daniel nodded, walking over to stand by Charlie as he looked at the computer screen.  
  
"This looks familiar to me," he said, pointing to a picture of a black tablet.  
  
"It is Asgaard, an alien language, we found it on a planet called Cimeria- ."  
  
"No, I remember something. Do you remember when we were on site and I found that small fragment with the writing we couldn't really find a reference point to?"  
  
Daniel frowned, "Uh, no."  
  
"You had said that it had some structural similarities to Cuniform, but that the writing was non-sensical when translated using it as reference point. It was at this point that I asked you if it could possibly have been a remnant from aliens, since there was nothing in our culture that could account for it."  
  
"Yes, yes, now I remember. I believe I referenced it in a paper I wrote about the aliens building the pyramids. We never could figure it out though."  
  
Charlie ran his hand through his hair, pursing his lips.  
  
"Strangely enough, I've been thinking about that tablet since I was briefed about this project and from what I remember it looks exactly like this writing that is on this tablet in the computer."  
  
"Really? Do you still have it somewhere?" Daniel asked, crossing his arms.  
  
"Of course, it's at my grandfather's house in my room there. Do you think that this may not be a written language as we think of written language?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Merlin leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "Well, we assign sounds to arbitraty representations we call letters. What if the representations aren't arbitrary? What if they are their own reference point?"  
  
"I'm not quite sure that I am following."  
  
"Say that the writing itself tells something about the pitch and morphemes that the language sounds like when it is spoken... The interesting thing is that these letters or whatever you want to call them, is that you would not have to lift up your writing utensil to make any of these letters. What if they are like a map of a spectrum of sounds? Like an ascending line in a letter would be an increase in pitch..."  
  
"Fascinating theory, I've never thought to ask the Asgard about their language."  
  
Charlie stared at it for another moment, his brow furrowed deeply. He pointed his finger at the screen and began tracing the script, muttering different sounds. Slowly he traced all the way down the tablet on the screen, making sounds as he went.  
  
Daniel knelt down next to the chair and stared at the young man's face.  
  
"Oh... my God, say that last bit again."  
  
Charlie turned to him as if he were jolted and raised an eyebrow at him, "What?"  
  
"Say it again."  
  
Skeptically, Charlie obliged.  
  
Daniel jumped up and ran to get something to write with. "Charlie, this is amazing! It sounds like Asgard and that last bit, I'm sure I've heard Thor say that bit before. Though I have no idea what it means."  
  
"It sounds like Asgard... Really?"  
  
"Yes, it does, although, how did you know what sounds to make, other than pitch?"  
  
Charlie frowned again, "I'm not sure, it just sounded right I guess, Daniel."  
  
"Wha-."  
  
The phone in his office interruped them shrilly.  
  
Looked dejected and annoyed, Daniel picked up the phone.  
  
"Dr. Jackson?"  
  
Daniel grimaced, it was General Hammond.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Did you manage to locate Captain O'Neill?"  
  
"Yes, sir, I did."  
  
"Good, is he there with you?"  
  
"Yes...would you like me to hand the phone to him?"  
  
"No, that's all right. I'd trust you can escort him back over here, I want to talk to him in my office ASAP?"  
  
"I'll do that."  
  
Daniel put the phone down and put a hand up to his cheek.  
  
Charlie had turned from the computer and was looking at him expectantly.  
  
"General Hammond," Daniel said.  
  
"I gathered that, Daniel."  
  
"He doesn't sound too happy."  
  
Charlie snorted, "I figured. I should have gone back on my own. It isn't exactly protocol to walk out on your CO the first hour after you report, or any hour thereafter really." He smiled slightly.  
  
It distinctly reminded Daniel of Jack.  
  
"I guess I will see you later, barring any charges of insubordination of course."  
  
"I'll help you find your way back."  
  
"That's all right, I've got my bearings for this trip, seeing as we just came from that way."  
  
Daniel wasn't entirely sure what to say, so he said, "Good luck."  
  
* * *  
  
In what seemed completely like dejavu, Merlin knocked on the office door, but this time he wasn't so preoccupied to distinctly hear the word, "Come," loud and clear. He took a deep breath, knowing that he might not be relaxed enough to take a deep breath later. He opened the door and closed it behind him, knowing that this was certainly private.  
  
He saluted the general sharply and then waited.  
  
The man simply looked at him appraisingly for a few moments, before he too stood up.  
  
"Well, Captain, that was embarassing."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I don't like being in the dark, Captain. Why didn't you mention anything before I took you to meet the Colonel."  
  
"Permission to speak freely, sir."  
  
"So long as I get some answers, fine," he answered ascerbically.  
  
"Well, sir, I'd already insinuated that one person didn't read my file, and I didn't care to make that same mistake again."  
  
General Hammond visibly bristled.  
  
Merlin found himself wishing that he had given the manual, 'no excuses' answer. General Hammond clearly didn't appreciate that kind of familiar sarcasm.  
  
"Make the same mistake?!?" The General moved out from behind his desk.  
  
He would have flinched if he had been that kind of man. Being that it seemed like a rhetorical question, he did not bother an answer.  
  
"Goddammit, son, I TOLD you I hadn't read the file. CLEARLY I didn't have all the pertinent information."  
  
The General was now right in front of him.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"You put me in a difficult situation, Captain. This is the exact reason why the regulation against being under the direct command of a family member was put into place. Not only that, but I was completely uninformed. You walked me into that situation blind."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir."  
  
"You damn well should be, Captain."  
  
Merlin raised an eyebrow slightly, something that General Hammond generally would not have caught, but his exposure to Colonel O'Neill had gotten him very practiced.  
  
"Do you have something to say, Captain?"  
  
"This is not a good situation for any involved, sir. For my part, I apologize for not telling you off the bat that the Colonel was my father. I shouldn't have put you in a situation where the you would put the two of us in the same room cold. No excuses, sir," he said.  
  
"How do you propose I deal with this situation?"  
  
"I will have no problems fulfilling the duties of my assignment, sir, regardless of whose chain of command I am under. Hopefully, the Colonel can do the same."  
  
"That second part sounded rather doubtful, son."  
  
"It is, sir," Merlin answered cocking his head to the side slightly.  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
"Sir, the Colonel hasn't spoken to me in six years. You witnessed the first words today."  
  
General Hammond pursed his lips together. "Dear God," he thought  
  
"Well both of you will have to do better than that."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
A/N – I am not so sure how satisfied I am with this chapter, but I've made you wait long enough. If you have any suggestions for how to make it better let me know. I promise more action and confrontation to come... O'Neill and O'Neill Merlin meets the rest of the pilots (hee hee) and has his first run on a simulator for a pre-X302 (evil laughs). What does O'Neill Sr. think? Merlin and Teal'c banter to come at some point in time BTW – reviews like 'not so much' do not help me to make the story better at all, so if you don't like it tell me why you don't like it. eg. "So and so is out of character" blah blah blah or "Dialogue is choppy/doesn't make sense" "Need more description" These things are helpful, because if you don't like the story I am not that concerned because not everyone likes every story. ;-)  
  
Thanks for your supportive reviews guys. I promise, it only gets better w/ plot from here. 


	5. Thoughts of the Past

Chapter 5 Thoughts of the Past  
  
Merlin retreated back towards Daniel's, happy in the knowledge that he had an office and quarters not far from there and hopefully far, far away from his father. They would have to work together, but Merlin definitely did not see this as an opportunity to amend things and did not want to see the man any more than he absolutely had to.  
  
Time and again, years before, Merlin had tried to smooth things over as best as he could, but he was very young then. All he remembered was that his father had spurned him, and spurned him, and spurned him again.  
  
He yelled, he threatened, he sent him off. Nothing had ever been good enough to make up for what had happened and Charlie had simply given up. His father was stubborn, and that was that. Merlin was conscious that it left a lot of hurt behind, but it had never played any part in his life, until now.  
  
When he laid down on the bed and put his hands behind his head, he could not help but think about everything, absolutely everything.  
  
The screaming, the fighting, and the tears were the first things that he remembered. His Pop yelling at his father that he needed to come out of it, that he was being selfish, and that he, Charlie, did not understand. But what they did not realize was that Charlie did understand... it was his fault, his stupidity, his childishness, plain and simple. What his Pop had understood and his father had not was that he was sorry and he didn't want his daddy to ignore him or snap at him anymore.  
  
Next, he remembered how his father had always simple sat motionless, expressionless, and lifeless for the longest time. Charlie had avoided him because he was afraid. Looking back now, he understood why his father had acted that way, but it in no way excused it in his mind.  
  
The next years were a swirl of different things that he had sworn himself to forget. They were hard in way that was unimagineable to him now. What he did remember was his grades dropping. His father had suddenly come back to life and wanted to play enforcer. He remembered how that had felt. His father ignored everything he did right and put everything he did wrong under a microscope. So, naturally, Charlie did what most adolescent boys would do and ignored him. Which promptly led to him being sent off to school under the pretense that it would do him some good to "get away from all the reminders of home and have a little structure."  
  
"BULLSHIT!" He said angrily, out loud. He was nearly shocked that he said it, but it was true. Obviously his father had been sick of him, and couldn't deal with him, and simply wanted to get rid of him! As if it were for his own good! It was just a convenient excuse. Pops had tried to convince his father otherwise, but it invariably had not worked.  
  
* * *  
  
After having downed two aspirins and a muscle relaxer, Jack massaged his temples dutifully. Shocked would not have been the word... shocked would have been what he would have felt if the entire world had just pulled out of an 8G turn...In fact, Jack could not find the proper word for what he was feeling, but he was perfectly content with that.  
  
"Charlie..." he said quietly, shaking his head.  
  
He decided that if there was a REAL God, or supernatural power other than aliens... he, she, or it definitely had it in for him. There was a supreme irony in the entire situation that just made him want to curse the name of every god, from every religion, just to make sure that they got the message. Effectually throwing every major mistake and misery into his face was worthy of this wrath.  
  
Jack knew that he had royally fucked up years ago, and that he was probably responsible for many of the things that had happened in the past. He had come to terms with that. Come to terms with that in the knowledge that it was irreparable...Come to terms with that thinking that it did not matter anymore, that there was no going back. Not that this meant that he did not still feel angry or frustrated or disappointed, because he did.  
  
Now, he was not ready to come to terms with it. To be suddenly and unexpectedly faced with something that he had moved on from, was... well...he wasn't sure what it was, but it was surely something.  
  
He scowled, "God damnit!"  
  
It felt strangely good to bellow that out. Soothing in a way. He was not prepared to deal with this and that statement pretty much summed it all up.  
  
Strangely, despite how angry he was, he could not help but notice that deep inside his chest he felt guilty. He felt badly about what he had said. It was rash, and while a part of him meant it, it was not the part that Charlie had ever been meant to see. That had been his first mistake, years ago. He should have been able to put that on the backburner in order to deal with and take care of his son, but the pain and the anger had just burned too hot.  
  
Now he thought reproachfully, "Old habits simply die hard."  
  
He had reverted back to the routine of yelling and pushing away, because it hurt too damn much. It was much easier to be that way now that his son was no longer a little boy, but a man.  
  
He sighed deeply. His son was surprisingly very much a man. Last he had seen him, the boy was nineteen or twenty... and a very verbal, rebellious nineteen or twenty. Charlie was now 25, 26?  
  
A piece of him felt loss, the loss of his son. He had not been a part of the Charlie's life, and he had allowed it, well, caused it to be that way. At least six years since they had last seen each other or spoken. He did not even know him anymore. He had no say over anything anymore, but when Charlie was gone, that had not bothered him. It bothered him now, even if it was just a little bit.  
  
* * *  
  
In a feverish sweat, Charlie's face twitched as he dreamed...  
  
"Charlie! Charlie, daddy's home," he heard his mother call.  
  
He perked up, grabbed his ball glove and tore home as fast as he could run from down the street. His hair brushed back and forth by his eyebrows, blowing around as he ran.  
  
As he turned the corner and ran down the driveway, he saw his father sitting on the steps outside with his arm around Charlie mom. Excitement coursed through him. He stopped short, nearly barreling into the both of them before he gave his dad a goofy salute.  
  
Surpressing a laugh at him, his dad returned it before being clobbered by a barage of knees and elbows as Charlie launched onto him.  
  
"Dad, you MADE it!" He exclaimed, gleefully.  
  
"Of course I made it, buddy, I wouldn't miss your Little League World Series for anything."  
  
"You're the best, dad!"  
  
"You too, kid!" He answered, his soft brown eyes glowing and relaxed.  
  
"You still gonna take me early so you can help me practice?"  
  
The man smiled, pulling his family closer to him, "Sure will. Got my glove right here."  
  
"What about your cap, Dad? You can't go to the game without your cap!"  
  
"No, I couldn't do that!"  
  
Charlie jumped up, knocking his elbows into his father's chest and arm, "I'll get it for you!"  
  
He ran into the house and up the stairs in a fury, nothing on his mind other than baseball and his father. When he stepped into their room, he looked around frantically for the hat, wanting nothing more than to grab it and get on with the ball playing.  
  
Then, it caught his eye.  
  
"Woah!"  
  
He walked up to the bed with his eyes wide. Never in a million years had he ever thought his father would get him a toy gun. In fact, his father had been adamantly against it, saying that even fake guns weren't proper toys. But he had asked like five million times for one because all his friends had one and he felt left out. His father had finally given in and gotten him one?  
  
It was just like his father to send him inside to somewhere he had left a gift for him. That was a game that they played. His father always surprised him by leaving new toys around the house for him.  
  
He picked it up slowly. It was heavy! And real metal too!  
  
He frowned. It didn't feel much like a toy gun, but it didn't really cross his mind that it could be a real one.  
  
A small smile on his face, he held it up and imagined that he was a commando running around the woods.  
  
"CHARLIE!!!"  
  
He jumped, scared and surprised. There was a loud 'bang!', louder than anything he had ever heard, even the loudest thunder, and he wasn't sure what happened. He dropped the gun at the same time his mother dropped to the floor.  
  
"Mom? MOM!!!" He screeched.  
  
"CHARLIE, SARA!" He heard the frantic voice of his father, as the man barreled up the stairs. "CHARLIE?"  
  
The door flew open the rest of the way, revealing his father.  
  
"SARA!"  
  
His father immediately dropped to the ground next to his mother, feeling around her neck for something.  
  
Charlie didn't understand, but he knew it was bad. He was motionless and quiet, tears beginning to stream down his confused face.  
  
The hospital was quiet. His father wasn't saying anything. Pops wasn't even saying anything. His grandpa simply had an arm around him. He wasn't sure what was going on, other than the doctors were doing something with his mom.  
  
The doctor that had talked to his father earlier came out of the ER again and immediately his father started to walk to the man. Pops patted his shoulder and told him to stay put, and he also went to talk to the doctor.  
  
Charlie sat quietly, looking at the three of them. The doctor was facing him, his father and grandpa's backs to him. The doctor put a hand on his father's shoulder, shaking his head.  
  
"Argh, NO!" His father yelled, slamming his fists against the wall, the rest of his body quickly following.  
  
Pops was crying, and trying to pull his father off the wall. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he ran. He ran with tears flying off his face in all directions, and his father didn't come after him...  
  
Merlin jolted out of sleep, falling completely off the bed. Disoriented, he jumped back off the floor and quickly grabbed the wall to prevent himself from falling over. Instinctually, he bulleted himself towards the bathroom and retched everything completely out of his stomach before sliding down to the cold floor.  
  
He had an hour to right himself before his briefing where he would meet the rest of the squad and have some simulator runs. He scolded himself for the dream and willed himself to push passed it like he had always done. 


	6. Ghosts from the Past

Chapter 5 Ghosts from the Past  
  
His face still dripping with sweat, his stride still wavering, Merlin opened the wardrobe in the 'bare necesities' room. He exhaled deeply, the furrow on his brow releasing a bit, as he saw his savior: a towel.  
  
A cold shower and three migraine pills later, Merlin pulled his left arm up behind his head, pulling under his elbow to stretch the muscle. The towel still tied tightly around his waist, he repeated the movement with the other arm.  
  
He was exceedingly grateful for the foresight of some unknown person who had seen to it that he had at least two brand new uniforms and even boots, because he certainly had no idea when any of his things were going to make it through from his prior post. One thing was for certain, as much as he absolutely loved white shirts and blue coats... he looked so dapper in them... gag... he appreciated the more relaxed feel of some good ol' blue BDUs.  
  
After donning his pants and a black t-shirt, Merlin began his routine to bring him back down from the half an hour or so before. His legs two giant strides apart from each other, his front knee bent and his back leg straight, he started with a few scripted arm and hand movements. Some were slow and deliberate, others fast and purposeful. He had been doing this since he was a little boy, but over the course of his life it had derived more and more meaning for him.  
  
Once he felt his body go into the rhythm of the moves and relax, he started a full kata. Karate competitors generally believed that you were either good at kata or good at sparring, but not both. Merlin, on the other hand, had been a National Champion in both disciplines.  
  
Kata was what allowed Merlin to sleep at night, when he did sleep at all. Everyday, with very little failure, Merlin trained in karate. Between missions some would sleep, Merlin would practice karate, even if he was flying more than one mission in a day. It kept him sane. It kept him in the world, and it had been serving that purpose for years.  
  
.

Jack stared at the in-box in his office, well, the in-box and the out-box really. Both boxes were filled with in-box materials. He couldn't concentrate on something so trivial on a regular day, let alone now.  
  
He pursed his lips together slightly before he stood up abruptly, slapping his hands down on his desk for a moment. Coffee, he needed coffee. Hopefully, Carter would have coffee, because even though Daniel was a sure bet for coffee, Jack was not willing to go that direction just yet. He had about half an hour before he had go to that briefing and do more simulator runs, yet again.  
  
He had been eager to shirk off the responsibility of micromanaging the stargate air group, the air group that had absolutely nothing to fly, but the enjoyment of that was completely gone. It was now mixed in with the strange feelings associated with the sudden appearance of his son. Guilt? Anger? If it were only that simple.  
  
Most people thought Jack was simple, but that was simply not true. He covered up everything that was not simple very well, it came along with his job. It had been a long journey; he could forget, sure, but he had never forgiven himself and as much as he was loathe to admit it he had never forgiven Charlie for it either.  
  
Forgetting was no longer an option.  
  
  
  
Merlin was able to calm himself so well, that he looked completely stoical and confident at the briefing, which was just underway. He felt comfortable with his eyes in the shadow of his hat. If he turned his head at the proper angle, he could even block the Colonel out of his field of vision.  
  
General Hammond was talking about the possible trajectory of the program – short term goals, long term goals. Around the large table, six pilots and seven weapons officers sat, most in rapt attention. Merlin pegged them all as fairly young, even though he was as well. He was aware that many new 'classified' programs had the tendency to pick younger officers, as there weren't as many bad habits or tendencies to get rid of, and to temper them with a few exceptional older officers.  
  
Merlin felt in his element, but this was undoubtedly facilitated by the fact that his father was completely blocked out from the brim of his hat.  
  
Jack was astute enough to know that Charlie was purposefully avoiding looking at him. Afterall, even if the two of them had not spoken or seen each other in years, Jack was still the boy's father, and knew every single evasive manuever Charlie had in his book.  
  
As the sounds of General Hammond's voice faded, the Colonel's memory took him back to another time when such an evasive manuever had been employed...  
  
His grip on his leather steering wheel cover was tight enough to turn his knuckles pure white. As if he did not have enough on his plate. As if it was not enough simply to have Charlie home from school.  
  
Lips pursed as tight as they would go, Jack drove to the county police department, trying to keep his temper schooled. To admit that he was having a difficult time would be a direct and utter understatment. Hadn't he dealt with enough as a father for the last few years? Hadn't Charlie done enough? Apparently not, was his cynical answer.  
  
He had not made a good father in the last few years, and he was not in denial of that fact, however, Charlie was most certainly not making it any easier on him. In fact, it seemed as if his son relished in behaving himself at school, even excelling, and then pulling every single teenage deliquency in the book when he was at home.  
  
Most of all, Charlie seemed to do it just to piss Jack off!  
  
That was the continual thought as Jack followed the lengthy procedure to get his son out of the county lock-up.  
  
With a tight grip on the boy's upper arm, he marched him wordlessly out of the police department and towards car, but twenty steps from the building, Charlie pulled against him and wrenched his arm free unabashedly.  
  
"Get off me!" Charlie growled, stopping strongly in the middle of the parking lot.  
  
"Get off you!" Jack said incredulously, "Get off you! Let me tell you something. If you think this is on you, you have another thing coming, mister."  
  
"Whatever," he muttered. "I don't care."  
  
Jack advanced on him a few steps, "Well you had better start caring, Charlie! This isn't games anymore."  
  
Charlie snorted angrily, "Games, you think this is games! This is what I have to do to keep myself sane, to deal with you when I am home."  
  
"You'll have plenty of dealing with me tonight."  
  
Shaking his head, Charlie began walking to the car.  
  
"Don't you walk away from me when I am talking to you."  
  
Charlie stopped, fire burning in his eyes, "Ohh what? Now you want to play father? Why don't you just FUCK OFF! Or better yet, why don't you just ignore me like you do for most of the year!"  
  
Jack took a deep breath, trying his best not to let his temper go from flaring to an inferno.  
  
"I am your father, and I am most certainly not going to ignore this. Get in the car."  
  
Arms crossed and glaring, Charlie didn't move a muscle, least of all toward the car.  
  
"I said, GET IN THE CAR," he was most definitely losing it now.  
  
When Charlie didn't make any movement, Jack stalked toward his son, intent upon pulling him into the car if that is what it came down to. He was not used to this kind of disregard.  
  
As he grabbed Charlie's arm, the boy hit him full force with the heel of his hands, pushing him away, but not far enough away. Quick as always, Jack cuffed the strong fifteen year old in the side of the head with his hand before grabbing a handful of light brown hair and dragging Charlie to the car.  
  
The ride home was absolutely silent aside from the angry breathing from both sides of the cab in Jack's pick-up.  
  
It was long enough of a ride to allow Charlie to fall back on his old habit of staying stoically quiet.  
  
Jack wondered if it was because all Charlie wanted to do was make Jack angry and get a rise out of him and after he did that, he was content not to put any effort into it whatsoever... or give Jack any satisfaction. Maybe he just didn't want to push Jack too far?  
  
In fact, Charlie didn't say a word from the car straight into the living room, where his father always lectured him.  
  
From there he slouched down on the chair, crossed his arms, and put his head down and at such an angle that his hair flopped over his eyes.  
  
"I would hope you would have something to say for yourself," Jack said finally, having calmed himself down a bit during the car ride.  
  
"Nope," was Charlie's stalwart answer.  
  
Growling Jack continued, "For God's sake, Charlie, throw me a bone here."  
  
Nothing.  
  
"You reek of marijuana, you were caught smoking pot in the backyard of an empty house by the police, and you had enough of it on you for them to consider that you were dealing it! You're damn lucky they somehow thought you were worth it not to add charges to you for that."  
  
"Lucky me." Charlie didn't bother to look up.  
  
Jack took five decisive step forward before pointing a finger straight at Charlie's nose. "Yeah, lucky you. You can kiss goodbye to your karate tournaments, your mountain bike, and any idea you had of getting either a driver's liscense or a car anytime soon."  
  
"Are you done yet?"  
  
Jack drew back his finger and clenched his fists, "No, I'm not done yet! How is it that you can give some cop you don't even know enough respect to convince him that you are an 'intelligent and respectful young man who has probably simply fallen in with the wrong crowd,' to quote him directly, but you don't show me any respect?"  
  
Charlie shrugged, still hiding behind his small curtain of caramel hair.  
  
"How is it that you get top grades in school and don't have a black mark on your record to speak of, and you cannot behave yourself when you are home?"  
  
Charlie looked up slightly, his honey eyes full of what Jack thought was disappointment, "How nice of you to notice that, sir."  
  
"Now what is that suppose to mean?" Jack asked, throwing his arms up in irritation.  
  
"Nothing," Charlie answered flatly, looking back down at his shoes.  
  
"Well this is good... my son is well on his way to becoming a drug addict now... Do you want me to drag you to a shrink again?"  
  
"No, I've already been through three of them." He stretched out his legs in front of him.  
  
Jack glared at him, not knowing why his son was so spiteful and why he simply couldn't act the same way he did at school when he was at home. Charlie's year end reports were always impeccable, and he was the topped rank of his year, a feat that Jack completely didn't understand given that Charlie was the most insubordinate child he was certain he had ever known.  
  
"Why can't you just do what you are supposed to do for once!" He yelled, exasperated.  
  
Jack barely made out, "for once," under Charlie's breath. He could barely hear it though, as Charlie didn't bother to raise his head.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Nothing, sir."  
  
"That's what I thought. Now, I expect this crap attitude of yours to change. Do you understand me?"  
  
Charlie didn't bother an answer. Jack was certain it was purposeful. His hand came out swiftly and he grabbed his son's jaw, lifting his face up and making him look at him.  
  
"Do you understand me?"  
  
After a low, gutteral growl escaped his throat, Charlie satisfied him with a spiteful, "yes sir."  
  
Jack certainly didn't understand what he had done to deserve such behavior from his own son, but then again, Charlie always did seem to make the worst mistakes. Jack scowled, now wasn't the time to think of that. It hurt him too damn much.  
  
"You will start listening to me, and someday when you are not grounded, because you sure are now, you will ask permission to go somewhere, and you will damn well tell me where you are going. You aren't going to lie to me and come and go as you want. You are fifteen years old, Charlie, and that is unacceptable."  
  
There was a long silence before Charlie finally said, "Can I go to my room now, sir?"  
  
Jack just stared at him, wondering what was wrong with his son, what he had done to deserve it, and why it couldn't just go away.  
  
"Fine," he said, making a dismissing gesture with his hand.  
  
What Jack didn't see was Charlie sigh deeply and flop down onto his bed, reaching under the pillow next to the one he slept on and pulling out an old baseball mitt. Staring up at his ceiling feeling completely numb, he tossed the ball up towards the ceiling over and over again, catching it when it came back to him.  
  
"Thanks, dad," he muttered to himself, "no one would know that you even noticed how I did at school or how many karate tournaments I have won. God knows you never say anything about any of it until I do something wrong and you certainly have never been to one of my karate tournaments since mom...You'd think I was invisible until I do something 'unacceptable'..."  
  
  
  
Abruptly, although no one could tell, O'Neill dropped back into the briefing and out of his memory bank. A quick assessment told him that he hadn't missed much.  
  
Begrudgingly he stared at the brim of Charlie's hat knowing that his presence was being completely tuned out just like it had been so many times before.  
  
However, Jack was beginning to have a nagging feeling in his stomach about the past. And in remembering, Jack had this funny sense that there was something that he had completely missed that Charlie had said over ten years ago. Something that was important.

AN - thanks for all your reviews and support. Sorry this took so long! I will update more often as my Ph.D program is out for the summer. Yippie. Let me know what you think of this chapter, it was hard to write. I think you needed some background to their relationship in order to undersand how they feel about each other now. I gave you an empathize with Charlie chapter last, so this is an empathize with Jack chapter. Although, I am hoping some of you see the implications of Charlie's behavior and why he was acting the way he did..

Thanks again, please review!


	7. Simulations

Chapter 7  
  
Merlin quirked an eyebrow and appraised the simulator. As much technology as he was used to, he was a little shocked that this was a virtual reality simulation, complete with headset. Not only that but there was also a very large projection screen that Merlin assumed showed the onlookers what the person in the simulator was seeing and doing. The controls themselves were numerous, although nothing he couldn't handle. Overall, incredibly impressive.  
  
He was jumped out of his thoughts by a loud, and purposeful, clearing of the throat.  
  
Merlin knew that sound anywhere, and his chest tightened merely in response to it. He turned around, knowing that his father was the source of the obnoxious noise.  
  
"Any day now, Captain," the man said.  
  
Merlin frowned, "Tech manual, sir?" He didn't even bother to turn his glaze to the Colonel.  
  
This question evoked a reaction Merlin never would have thought it would. Stares. Everybody was staring at him. General Hammond included.  
  
He thought to himself, 'Surely asking to see a tech manual isn't so strange.'  
  
The Colonel took a few steps forward, putting his hand up to his chin increduously, "Tech manual?"  
  
Merlin frowned more deeply, just a little confused, "Surely asking to see the tech manual is SOP for any pilot, sir. Why would I attempt a simulation, when I have no understanding whatsoever how it works. Especially seeing as this particular craft, as I understand it, isn't just some normal jet."  
  
Although the Colonel did not let it show on his face, he was more than a bit surprised that Charlie asked to see the manual. Six pilots before him had not asked to see it and seven WSOs for that matter. He glanced over at General Hammond, who seemed interested in seeing what the pentagon had sent them this time. Just that one glance had told the Colonel that General Hammond had noted the irony in Merlin's request.  
  
Merlin briefly looked over the manual, noting what the controls were for, the dimensions of the aircraft, and the maneuvering capabilities.  
  
Merlin's eyebrow went up again, with a sense of enjoyment, "Compensates for the force of gravity, but does not compensate when pulling negative g's. Hmm," he thought.  
  
Once he was hooked up to the simulation, his adrenaline was cooking. Immediately, he was up in the air cutting some moves to get used to the controls. A few roll outs and he was more than ready to go. He gave the thumbs up to start in well under the five minutes he was allowed to adjust.  
  
His body could feel the turns and drops he was making even though he wasn't really in the air, which spoke to how advanced the simulation was. In the first few moments of the simulation, before things started to demand his full concentration, he smirked and decided that he could not wait for them to make the real thing and let him loose with it.  
  
In was very strange to have an automated WSO in his backseat and not a real person that he could talk to, but he still managed to fool himself into making everything feel real. As he went through the program it went from him and computerized compatriots fighting down five target aircraft within the atmosphere, then out of the atmosphere, and then him getting chased by two through the empty void of space.  
  
As he made slight noises of victory or frustration, completely lost within the simulator, the rest of the room was watching the spectator screen in rapt attention.  
  
Colonel O'Neil found himself touching his chin with his eyebrows raised, not realizing when he had become so focused on the screen. Charlie was doing remarkably better than any of the other pilots, which was perhaps why he was chosen.  
  
One of the other pilots pulled off his hat and walked up closer to the screen to get a better look, his mouth slightly agape. "Fuck, he's good!" He muttered.  
  
Colonel O'Neil shot him a sharp glare.  
  
General Hammond, who was standing next to O'Neil, said, "He's scoring rather well, Colonel."  
  
"Yes, sir," the Colonel answered, althought he response was rather lackluster.  
  
The General stared at Jack for a few moments, and Jack stared off into space, pretending to look at the screen.  
  
When Jack pulled himself back to look at the screen, he felt a light growl go through him. Charlie was far into the simulation, much farther than any of the others had gotten. In fact, Charlie was at least a level from where the others had gone on their first runs. The room had very suddenly gotten very quiet.  
  
Within minutes a light came up across Merlin's field of vision and on the spectator screen. The big green letters spelling out "PASS".  
  
Merlin was just taking off the VR helmet when a young lieutenant took the piece of equipment from him.  
  
"You passed on your first run, Captain," he said, surprise lacing his voice.  
  
"Sir, you did better than Colonel O'Neil did on his first run!" said another.  
  
Merlin looked around the room as he took the VR sensors off his body. All the other pilots were nodding at him. He smirked slightly.  
  
"Well done, son. Apparently the President made a very good choice, besides the other road bumps."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Colonel O'Neil raised an eyebrow at him, sarcastically, "Tech manual."  
  
It was posed in a questioning tone, but it was much more of a statement than a question.  
  
Merlin frowned slightly before answering with perhaps more attitude than he normally would have, "The tech manual wasn't hooked up to the simulation, sir."  
  
The comment earned quite a few looks from the others.  
  
They stared at each other before General Hammond saw fit to put it to an end, "Well, gentlemen, that's all for now. Captain O'Neil will be taking it from here. Colonel," he said, inclining his head to the door.  
  
Once they walked out, Merlin leaned against the wall and appraised the group standing before him. They were still staring at him with equal interest.  
  
One of them walked up and reached out his hand, "Look forward to working with you, sir."  
  
Merlin shook it thinking, 'To bad I don't feel the same way about my CO.'  
  
Daniel drove him from the base to his grandfather's house, where most of his belonging were. As they pulled in the long drive, Merlin saw his big, yellow, Nissan Xterra sitting in the open garage perfectly kept and clean. Pops only drove it every once and awhile so that it didn't sit while Merlin was overseas.  
  
"Thanks, Daniel, we still on for dinner later, right?"  
  
"Of course, although you may want to give me a call to remind me... I sometimes get a little engrossed in what I am doing and forget that I need to eat."  
  
"Will do."  
  
He watched with a quirky smile as Daniel pulled out. At least there was something enjoyable about being back in good ole Colorado Springs. There were probably a few things now that he really thought about it, and he was getting to one of those now.  
  
Not wanting to give Pops a heart attack by simply walking in the house and going looking for him, Charlie knocked on the door. He waited a few moments, but when no answer came, he opened the door with his key.  
  
"Pops," he called.  
  
There was some rustling in the living room and a baritone voice called back, "Charlie!"  
  
The tall man appeared at the end of the hallway, his eyes pulled open in surprise. He grabbed Charlie by the arms and looked at him.  
  
"You look good! You aren't injured?"  
  
"Err, thanks, and no I'm not injured," he responded, grinning softly while his eyes conveyed his confusion over the odd question.  
  
"They didn't send you home because of an injury then."  
  
Suddenly it click, "Oh no, no, not at all. I was reassigned."  
  
"Reassigned here? Not..." Pops said, hoping that Charlie had been reassigned to the other local base.  
  
"Yup, 'fraid so, but lets not talk about that."  
  
Pops looked at him and like a traditional Irishman said, "And why not? The two of you have to work things out. I've told you before. It's as much your fault as it is his, the way you two get on. You aren't a child anymore, Charlie, you're as much of a man as any man can claim to be."  
  
Charlie rolled his eyes, "Come on Pops, not now," he said, his voice almost sounding whiney.  
  
"I've been telling you for a long time now, and it's about time you make an effort. Perhaps you'll have to be the adult and suck it up, but I'm sure that you've sucked up much worse things than this in the past years. Your mother would not have wanted it to end this way, Charlie."  
  
"Pops..."  
  
"Don't you Pops me. She was my daughter as much as she was your mother and Jack's husband. I don't like to think about it either, but the only thing that is going to give any of us peace about it is if we all move on, and to do that you and Jack need to mend things."  
  
"He still blames me!" Charlie yelled.  
  
Pops raised an eyebrow and put a hand on his shoulder, "He doesn't blame you, Charlie, not as much as he blames himself."  
  



	8. A Little Pleasant Distraction

A Little Pleasant Distraction

As the weeks progressed at the SGC, Merlin found himself settling in well. He had no plans to find a place of his own, as of yet, content to stay with his grandfather as he had been away for much longer than he had originally felt. Surprisingly, he had even managed to steer clear of the Colonel as much as humanly possible. It didn't help matters that he was reporting to the man, but he was able to put on his stoical face and stand it through.

What was beginning to irk him though was that there was too much paperwork and absolulely no flying. Eventually, he would have to go fly both the Eagle and Nighthawk to keep his flight status valid on both, but that wasn't to come up for awhile.

His 'team', which he found a stange distinction for a group of fighter pilots, was now dubbed SG-A, for air. Hammond had originally conceived it as SG-A1, since there would be more than just one air 'team' eventually, but Merlin had respectfully put an end to that with a comment that their mascot could be a bottle of steak sauce. Hammond had said under his breath something about 'one would have been enough'. Merlin had yet to figure out what that was about.

It was eight at night and he was sitting in the local coffee shop, which he had frequented when he was younger. It was warm and small and never full, with large, cushy chairs of various dark colors spread out over the wood floors. His laptop was buzzing and sending out a slightly blue glow as he searched for other instances of writings like that of the Asgard on the internet, wondering if anyone else had stumbled across it. Since he didn't have much to do, he was working on this as a topic for his dissertation in his free time. Daniel was more than eager to help. Daniel was more than eager just to have someone to talk to about artifacts.

His hazel eyes were fatigued now; he had been sitting there for about two hours without resting his eyes at all, and he had never been one to sit and stare at a computer all day. Sitting back in his chair, he surveyed the surroundings. There were only a few other people around to survey. In a corner nearby there was someone that caught his attention. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes made all the more stunning by milky colored skin. At the moment, she was too engrossed in reading a rather large book to notice that he was staring at her.

He squinted his eyes to try and read the title of the book, tilting his head sideways as far as his neck would allow it to go.

His eyebrowed frowned for a moment before jumping up in surprise. He knew that book, and he knew it very well. Five years ago he had helped Daniel write a chapter for the book, which was a compilation of archeological work on Egypt.

Merlin looked back at his computer screen and then down at his coffee cup. With a new sense of purpose he picked up the coffee cup and walked over to her table.

She looked up at him with an expression that might be read as slight annoyance or skepticism. It was very likely that she was approached by men quite frequently.

"Sorry," he said, with a lopsided grin, "but I couldn't help but notice what you are reading. I am quite familiar with that book, I did graduate work in anthropology and archeology."

The look faded from her face and she smiled.

"I'm working on my Masters in history," she said, "specializing in ancient civilizations."

"May I join you," he asked.

She gestured to the chair and smiled again, her blue eyes looking him over.

"I'm Alina."

He nodded, "Charlie or CJ."

"So, you said that you did graduate work...Do you have your degree?"

He shrugged, "I have my Masters and all of my classwork for my Ph.D aside from some more field work and my dissertation."

"What do you do now," she asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I'm an Air Force officer."

Her mouth dropped open a little bit, but then closed right away.

He wondered if perhaps she had a bad experience in the past by her reaction.

"A fighter pilot," he finished.

She smiled at this and relaxed, feeling much more at ease with his company.

Charlie stored the reaction away in his mental 'to do' file for analyzation later that night. There was certainly something more to her not liking an Air Force officer, but finding an Air Force pilot acceptable.

"What are you drinking, Alina? Could I get you a refill, I'm heading for one myself?"

"Oh, sure, it was a Chai tea. Thank you."

She watched his back retreat to the counter, smiling gently after him. While she would not generally go within thirty feet of anyone in the Air Force for a potential date, he was incredibly cute, seemingly nice, and was a pilot – as safe as she could get within the military.

When he came back, he set her glass down in front of her and flopped back down into the black leather chair next to her.

"So, Charlie, have you always lived in Colorado Springs, you have a little bit of an accent?"

He swallowed and said, "I've lived loads of places actually, did you want the five cent answer or the dollar answer?"

She chuckled, "I'll get to know more with the dollar answer."

"Well, I was born in Chicago, Illinois, but I don't really remember any of that. I spent most of my childhood here." He hesitated for a few moments, pursing his lips, before he finally continued. "When I was around eleven, my mom passed away, and my dad packed me off to military school in Texas, of all places. I think the farther away from him, the better, but anyway...That probably more than you wanted to know. That's where I got the accent anyway."

"Actually no, where else have you been?" She said, honestly curious.

"I went to school in Texas for awhile for Undergraduate, then Chicago again for awhile for my Graduate work... Then Egypt...Then Arizona...Then Florida...Then the Middle East...Then back here."

"Wow, you don't get tied down, do you?"

He smiled softly, "We'll I just got reassigned to here, so I'll be here for quite awhile. I'm on some sort of command track, so they aren't likely to move me for years."

"Well that's good." She twirled a finger around a lock of soft, brown hair.

"Is it," he said, quirking an eyebrow.

She blushed at being caught saying such an eager statement. It definitely wasn't like her.

Charlie rescued her from it graciously, "Sounds like you might be from Texas or somewhere too?"

"A little obvious isn't it," she said, looking down slightly. "'tho I haven't lived there for a few years."

"I don't mind the accent," he said, lowering his head to meet her eyes. "Afterall, I've got a slight Texas drawl too. Let everyone else think it's strange. You should hear me when I get angry, then I really sound like a Texan."

She looked up and couldn't help but laugh, as he had said the last half in the deepest Texas drawl he could manage.

After the best night Merlin had in awhile, talking about ancient history with an attractive young woman, he had to walk out of his door in the morning shaking his head roughly.

His 'team' had given him the names of the person they would like to be partnered with so that they could begin training in the pairs they would fly in. There were now seven pilots other than him and eight WSOs. Generally he wouldn't care who wanted to partner up with whom, especially since this group was highly skilled and qualified. He didn't have to worry about babysitting anyone. However, if there was one thing he was not going to stand for, it was any form of discrimination on his 'team'. Everyone under him was male, save for one female WSO. Not one pilot had picked her as their first or second choice.

The real kicker was that she was the most experienced WSO they had. She had come straight out of Iraq as well and had flown the no fly zone before Iraq.

Merlin slammed the door of his Nissan Xterra and tried to prepare mentally for the ass chewing he was about to deliver.

A/N

Thanks to Chris T. , Wes Janson, cal, Scifi Fan Gillian, and Maxennce for the reviews and support. Sorry it has been so long. It's been an interesting summer for me ;-). Hopefully, I will be updating more frequently now. Reviews always make me update faster!

Also, if anyone has any Alina theories I'd love to hear them. What do you think will happen?

Thanks, Julie


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